


to the grave

by infinitehearts



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (if you squint), 29th Hunger Games, Dark Katsuki Yuuri, Dark Victor Nikiforov, Depictions of Violence/Gore/Blood, Hunger Games AU, M/M, Tribute!Mila, Tribute!Phichit, Tribute!Yuuri, Victor!Minako, YOI AU Week 2017 day 1- crossover, stylist!Christophe, victor!viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 04:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12645678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitehearts/pseuds/infinitehearts
Summary: 35 slips of paper can change everything now. What's more dangerous, is what might happen in the Games themselves.





	to the grave

**Author's Note:**

> read [you're vicious now](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/YOIAUWEEK2017/works/12644094) and really that's what inspired my take on the Hunger Games verse, but, well, I think [imaginedeath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedeath/pseuds/imaginedeath) deserves serious props for this brainchild of mine considering i ran with something that may or may not include their piece in a way. Kind of short, and no promises for the rest of the week, but this had to happen.

Viktor Nikiforov was one of few tributes to be named a victor of the Hunger Games. It was in his name, in his bones, in his slightly disastrous smirk.

This was a notable achievement.

However, being the victor of two back to back games was quite extraordinary, to say the least.

These are the things one does to be known as a living legend.

These are the things that make even a gleam of disaster in eyes like the sea so attractive.

These are the things that make the Capitol your friend.

‘`’

Yuuri Katsuki was the only one in his family still eligible for the reaping. He knew this, as a matter of fact. He took out his best clothes and dressed, his nerves rattling him to the core.

He was nobody special. In a district of careers, of careers, his name was in the reaping 35 times. Far more than usual. He supposed that was just how the cookie crumbled.

It was nothing special when he became a tribute in the 29th Hunger Games.

It wasn’t shocking when there were no volunteers. Not because he could hold his own, but simply because he wouldn’t be missed.

His family wished him goodbye with katsudon in hand, and that was that. In his heart, he knew he would never see them again, even though his brain, just this once, was telling another story.

He only wished to glimpse at Viktor Nikiforov before he died. That would make it enough.

‘`’

In the very minute time between the Reapings and the Hunger Games, Minako Okuwaka had finally managed to feel as if she could give the Capitol a show. Yuuri, for all his lackluster in his Reapings, would make a fine tribute, a gleaming Victor even, if he could push.

It would be easy enough to make him beautiful and strong in the right hands, with the right words. The right actions taken.

This battle was like a carefully crafted dance, and even if he didn’t see it in himself, Minako could see Yuuri was the music.

The most important thing was that he needed Viktor to be the prize, rather than peace.

Yuuri Katsuki knew of peace, knew of a full stomach. The only way that Minako could mold him was to offer him something new.

Perhaps his longing could outweigh his fear, could bring out his true colors.

‘`’

It was the first year Viktor felt surprised. It was the first year that he could almost feel like himself again, rather than a trophy to be displayed. District One didn’t need any more trophies.

He was glad that Yakov still worked with tributes. Not him. Never him, if he could help it. He did love surprising people, after all.

The tragedy might be his greatest surprise of all. All that was left was to wait for the right moment.

Surprise came in the form of a District Four tribute named Yuuri Katsuki.

The Games might hold his attention this year.

If he won, Viktor very much wished to meet him.

The only person whose eyes felt like they held someone who’d understand.

Hopefully, Makkachin wouldn’t mind.

‘`’

Christophe Giacometti was given a pearl. One that was a bit raw, a bit rough, but he couldn’t help but see the beauty. Hopefully, by the time Yuuri Katskui was in the games, everyone else would see it too.

He couldn’t make him strong, of course, but he had the ability to make him lithe and lean, to sculpt his rounder edges into tantalizing curves and scrub him raw of any insecurity.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Yuuri was made for Capitol life, or if perhaps, maybe Yuuri were just made for Viktor’s life.

They could only find out if Yuuri could win, of course.

‘`’

In the training center, Yuuri’s stamina was something to treasure once discovered. He worked fast and hard, picked up new skills as easily as breathing.

It seemed that while not the typical career, nothing about Katsuki could be defined as typical.

And his only weak spot was his tendency to play nice with others.

It seemed that maybe this would be a fair fight.

His score of nine did nothing to paint a target on his back.

It only increased the range of the hunters.

‘`’

Phichit Chulanont was the only one to dare to get close in the arena.

Something in Yuuri Katsuki’s eyes went mad the moment the games began.

So far, his proximity to Yuuri was keeping him alive.

He only wished that the tables would not turn on him.

It was inevitable, that they would do just so.

‘`’

The wild inside of Yuuri Katsuki broke in the arena, only moments after the cannon signaled the death of the District Eleven male. Viktor knew of that fire.

Viktor had once been made of that fire.

Viktor had turned that fire into solid ice.

No one looking upon him would see the scars that forever lived inside him.

Dear, dear Christophe had been the one to suggest it back then.

The move from the wild into something more civil.

Had thus shorn wild, lustrous, long, but forever ruined, silver locks short.

Had helped Viktor lock himself away until nothing less than perfection remained.

Those poor tributes had been volunteered up to their deaths.

He had made every death quick.

Every last one.

Perhaps, Yuuri would understand him.

‘`’

They all went in with families who wanted nothing more than for them to live.

Yuuri had already made his peace with the blood.

Yuuri had found exactly one person who was actually worth the privilege of going home alive.

The redhead had killed him slowly.

Her cannon was yet to go off, but there was no fun in a quick death for her.

The others, he supposed, the knives were serving well for.

But he made sure to leave her body as heartless as she had been.

Yuuri knew the moment that Phichit died, he would be going home, after all.

Perhaps, they would forgive him.

If not, surely, Viktor could understand.

Minako had told him this, and as much as he believed she might too understand, he cared more about whether Viktor would.

After all, there wouldn’t be another Quarter Quell for quite a while, and he might never be a living legend, but he could certainly be a monster.

‘`’

Minako had never expected the things that Yuuri did up until the end of the Games.

The gore suited him.

The right favors might encourage Christophe to make it his signature.

Perhaps, she could manage to mold this Yuuri into something unforgettable.

‘`’

Viktor wished to marry Yuuri Katsuki, even covered in as much blood as he was.

It was a delight to see just how far mad the boy could be drove.

He wished he still wore the blood of his victories.

It must have been why he had such a penchant for magenta.

He still remembered how his long ponytail had gleamed with the stains of crimson red blood.

Perhaps, Yuuri could be blue.

‘`’

Christophe could quite clearly see that the set of eyes looking back at him were as destroyed as the pair that had stared at him only four years prior.

They would move him to yet another district.

At least he was certain he would be the one to plan the wedding.

But for now, he could only revel in the ideas swimming through his head as Yuuri was yet again waiting to be reborn.

Perhaps, Yuuri and Viktor were made for each other.

‘`’

Yuuri was not fanged, nor hairy, nor dead.

He was the worst type of monster: human.

But that was alright.

After all, his family only cared he would come home again.

And Viktor seemed to quite like the dark inside his head.

That was nice, considering he liked the dark inside Viktor’s head.

Perhaps, District Thirteen might once again rise, after the wedding.

The bloodshed would be a lovely honeymoon present.

For now, the feeling of Viktor’s hands upon his scalp, brushing against hairs shorn shorter than he ever imagined, pulling at the longer hair still atop his head, his mouth pressed against Viktor’s own, would be enough.

There were others to call before the blood would be spread.

The bigger the mess, the better.


End file.
